Tomorrow morning, I will be leaving Sunderland, quite probably forever. I may never see some very close friends again, unless they send wedding invitations, which is probably unlikely in most cases. My life as far as I know it is packed up into four bags, and I'm oddly unemotional about it.
For the plan-happy amongst you, I'll be in Leicester for two nights and a day and in London for five nights, and also in Bath for one day and zero nights. I'm sure I can find some internets in London, if not in my hostel, then nearby, so I'll post pictures as I feel like hogging the bandwidth and might give short daily updates if I don't feel like using a lot of internet. They'll probably run something to the effect of "Oh, my days, I just walked through Westminster Abbey. Westminster Abbey!" with a picture or two as teaser. You can substitute any historical thingy that I've always been interested in.
Like the Sherlock Holmes museum, which is within easy walking distance of my hostel. (!!! my expectations are so high that they'll probably be dashed. This will in no way diminish my picture taking habit or plans to purchase something to stick on the flap of my bag or something to commemorate the time I visited Sherlock Holmes's house.
In the meantime, I've been planning for my return home. Specifically, for The Questions.
Every traveller, whether to the next town for a few days or to the other side of the world, knows The Questions. I always struggle with these, quibbling with myself out loud about how hard it is to answer them before launching into an hours-long rambling story with enough rabbit trails to be the hundred acre wood. So, this time, I decided to plan ahead. And, disclaimer, Questions 2 and 3 are not generally asked to day-trippers, but other-side-of-the-world-travellers seem to get them a lot, and I always want to ask them, so I'm answering them.
1. What was your favourite part/thing?
I would have to say that this is one of my least favourite questions ever. It's really hard for my decision-making-impaired brain to narrow down a whole range of generally enjoyable experiences to just one, unless I had a terrible time, in which case the pessimist within insists that "leaving" was my favourite part. Usually, nothing stands out that much until years later, when I only remember the best part and have forgotten everything else but the worst.
In this case, I'm going to say "cheese and onion pasties, cheap nutella, being called "love", "darling", and "pet" without a southern american accent, and the friends I made."
2. What are you going to miss the most?
Similar to the first, but not the same. I'm really not going to miss being called love all that much, but I will miss being able to microwave a cheese and onion roll for a quick, filling, and delicious breakfast quite a bit.
And I will really miss my friends. I've never made such close friendships with people that I know for a very nearly fact that I won't see again. I've made friendships this close in high school, and I still count the Inklings as some of my closest friends ever; I've made friendships this close at Whitworth as we bonded over difficult classes and the odd batty professor and core, and I plan on being friends with these people for a very long time, and will probably be going to their weddings, even if they scare off all the timid whitworth boys. But none of this has prepared me for making friends, to a sibling-like point, with people with whom the only thing I have in common is that we lived in the same flat for four months. I almost can't remember not knowing Josie, Conor, Flo, and Adam. And I never want to forget them.
3. What will you not miss?
I will not miss the friggin exchange rate. I will not miss being unemployed. I will not miss being unable to understand the cashier's accent. I will not miss the sidewalk being paved with cigarette butts. I will not miss having a roommate (especially one that gets snippy when she's tired). I will not miss the University of Sunderland. I've been here long enough that I can think of these very, very easily.
4. What was your least favourite part/thing?
Easy. The impossible little frenchman. Not only could I not understand half of what he said, he didn't like me. The only time he showed any lack of somewhat haughty condescension, like I was a particularly stupid breed of moron who was soiling his oxygen, was when I dominated the GC software.
I don't like being thought of as stupid. It didn't help that I was completely unfamiliar with lab habits, lab report expectations, and the labs that were prerequisites. I have the knowledge. In fact, I solidly passed organic chemistry and its lab. But I didn't take PBM103 or any of the other first year biomedical science modules at Sunderland, which put me at a severe disadvantage when it came to figuring out what was expected of me.
The other thing that I didn't like was having a difficult roommate. I'm a little mad that she even signed up for a double room. When I asked her why, she replied that she had never roomed with anyone before and felt that if she was doing all these new, unfamiliar things, she might as well share a room, too. This was not fair to me. I was expecting someone who, like myself, had no need for the stupid little "how to not to make your roommate hate you" pamphlet.
I know, I know, life's not fair, but I'd like to have a word with whoever assigned us to the same room. Flatmates are one thing. People who are predisposed not to get along can still be in the same building; kitchen use just needs to be regulated. People who are predisposed not to get along cannot share a room without misery on both sides, if not open hostility and the urge to scream into your pillow, except you can't because she's sitting right there. The most annoying part was the vague superiority complex, except where english was involved. Look, all right, you've been to a million more places than I have, you know more about the world than I do, and you speak a lot more languages than I do, but at least I'm not rude, loudly, in public. The worst part is that I think we would have got along fine if we hadn't been roommates. It's certainly not that she's german. I've met several other germans, and I like all of them. It's just that we are not the sort of people who can room together without starting to hate each other a little bit.
That was a downer of a Question to put last, but it always seems to come up last. So...
5. Would you do it again?
Absolutely. I'd do a few things differently (get a visa or an internship with a stipend or something), but I'd do this again in a heartbeat. It wouldn't be the same — nothing ever could be — but I seriously doubt that I'll ever regret this. I might, in a fit of reverse culture shock, regret having turned my life upside down, but the friends I've made, the experiences I've had (including the ones I'll never wish on anyone)... I'll always pine for England, at least a little bit. I think it's fair to say that this has changed my life, if only in that I've done something that's made it so that only people who've at least done something similar can really relate to me for a few months. This isn't to say that I won't be friends with my friends that I left a whitworth or various and sundry other universities across the pacific northwest, but there's going to be a bit of a divide between the "us" who have lived abroad and the "them" who haven't.
Showing posts with label housing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label housing. Show all posts
Sunday, 15 January 2012
Saturday, 24 December 2011
The Christmas Post
On Friday, I slept in more than I had expected. Still, I found candy canes, magical elves, and a chocolate orange after a long hunt through every store I could think of before drifting out of the rain into a bookstore. Also, I found turkish delight in a pound store.
I had read Hogfather the day before, so I watched the movie, a made-for-tv affair. It was okay, and nowhere near as bad as it could have been. Almost all the actors were british, and they followed most of the plot pretty well. Death was a little weird; I always figured him as pretty impassive, but this one had an angry skull. The voice wasn't too bad, though. Susan was played by, as Jessi pointed out, "the girl from Downton Abbey," which sounded more vague than it was, and she did okay. Mustrum Ridcully was played by Joss Ackland with a beard, which disguised him pretty well, since he was bald and beardless as the Russian ambassador in The Hunt for Red October (and also as the villain in Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey).
Saturday, I slept in again It is vacation... Or, as they say here, holidays. Jessi had already left to meet her parents, probably at the airport. Over the course of the afternoon, I decided not to go with chinese takeaway because it just doesn't sound appealing. Also, the restaurant that's closest to Clanny is pretty pricey for just one dish, and I felt that I'd already spent a lot of money on food.
In the interests of exploration, I tried blue cheese for the first time in about 17 years. It started as "For SCIENCE!" and ended as "I know too much science to eat that." The non-blue parts aren't too bad, but thinking about putting large quantities of concentrated, highly visible bacteria into my mouth freaks me out (I added those qualifiers because, you know, we put a ton of bacteria into our mouths on a regular basis, we just can't see it). I killed some in the oven, and it didn't taste too bad, but... shudder. It's that horrible feeling that you get when you touch something gross... Just... ugh.
It wasn't just for exploration and science, it was that lots of people I know like blue cheese (also the food blogs, but I really do know people, real people, in real life that like the stuff), and I thought, maybe I've got this all wrong and I'm letting a barely-remembered incident and my parent's opinion colour my perception of this rather famous, generally accepted cheese.
Now, it's my opinion. If you got rid of all the mould, it wouldn't be too bad.
To distract you from blue cheese, here's some pictures of fairly delicious candy!
In addition to stuffing myself with cheese, I watched a lot of movies. I forget all of them, but I watched Polar Express and Nativity Story on Christmas Eve for sure, and I also watched, during the course of the weekend, Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer, Miracle on 34th Street, A Charlie Brown Christmas, Home Alone, Die Hard, Die Hard 2, Gremlins (those last four are all set on Christmas and/or Christmas Eve), and all three of The Santa Clause series.
Sunday, I was planning on going to St. Gabriel's for their Christmas Day service, to be in church when I couldn't be with family and friends, and to see what an anglican church is like. I'm curious, after learning quite a bit about their formation in Core 150 and English Social History 1500-1750. We don't really see many of those in the US; probably something about being the whole reason that the religious establishment in the states was what it was.
Unfortunately, I woke up ten minutes before the service was to start, due to my really annoying habit of turning my alarm off in my sleep. I ended up getting up around 11, again.
In the afternoon, happily after I was up and had made my bed and stuff, Jessi and her parents came by. Fortunately, they spoke enough english to make things not-awkward, and Jessi translated when their english failed them. My german never came into play, although I did pick up on some of what they said. They were pretty nice.
After they left, I got started on dinner, and it resulted in this rather suspicious-looking concoction.
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| For the win! |
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| I actually grabbed all different colours from two different containers without looking. |
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| A magical elf. |
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| At last, the hard-won candy canes! |
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| It's real! |
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| Of course, it was pretty gross. "Rose" isn't a very strong flavour, so I mostly got "sugar" for that one, and lemon actually tasted exactly the same. |
I had read Hogfather the day before, so I watched the movie, a made-for-tv affair. It was okay, and nowhere near as bad as it could have been. Almost all the actors were british, and they followed most of the plot pretty well. Death was a little weird; I always figured him as pretty impassive, but this one had an angry skull. The voice wasn't too bad, though. Susan was played by, as Jessi pointed out, "the girl from Downton Abbey," which sounded more vague than it was, and she did okay. Mustrum Ridcully was played by Joss Ackland with a beard, which disguised him pretty well, since he was bald and beardless as the Russian ambassador in The Hunt for Red October (and also as the villain in Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey).
Saturday, I slept in again It is vacation... Or, as they say here, holidays. Jessi had already left to meet her parents, probably at the airport. Over the course of the afternoon, I decided not to go with chinese takeaway because it just doesn't sound appealing. Also, the restaurant that's closest to Clanny is pretty pricey for just one dish, and I felt that I'd already spent a lot of money on food.
In the interests of exploration, I tried blue cheese for the first time in about 17 years. It started as "For SCIENCE!" and ended as "I know too much science to eat that." The non-blue parts aren't too bad, but thinking about putting large quantities of concentrated, highly visible bacteria into my mouth freaks me out (I added those qualifiers because, you know, we put a ton of bacteria into our mouths on a regular basis, we just can't see it). I killed some in the oven, and it didn't taste too bad, but... shudder. It's that horrible feeling that you get when you touch something gross... Just... ugh.
It wasn't just for exploration and science, it was that lots of people I know like blue cheese (also the food blogs, but I really do know people, real people, in real life that like the stuff), and I thought, maybe I've got this all wrong and I'm letting a barely-remembered incident and my parent's opinion colour my perception of this rather famous, generally accepted cheese.
Now, it's my opinion. If you got rid of all the mould, it wouldn't be too bad.
To distract you from blue cheese, here's some pictures of fairly delicious candy!
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| Hawick Balls (mint, if you can believe it). |
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| Rhubarb and Custard thingies |
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| Dandelion and Burdock bottles |
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| I think these are either rhubarb or strawberry |
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| Silver things. They turned out to be kind of minty, but I mostly got them because they were shiny. |
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| Sounds exciting... |
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| Nothing too magical. |
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| Barley sugar, I believe. I always wondered what it was, and I still wonder why it's called that. |
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| Treacle Toffees: Purchased out of curiosity. Such things exist? |
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| Clove somethings |
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| Around the plate of candy, which includes the above plus some chocolates not mentioned, we have a mince pie, a chocolate orange, cookies, a slice of fruitcake, and oranges. Also Hogfather between the cookies and the cake. |
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| Repast. And yeah, I was kind of into taking pictures of my food that night. |
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| Pure Heaven white grape and peach non-alcoholic sparkling beverage. |
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| ...Which had a fancy cork! |
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| Luckily, Adam had left his leatherman in the kitchen, so I set about opening the first cork I'd ever encountered. |
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| After a long and arduous battle, I won. |
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| Someone left a wine glass. I took advantage of it. |
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| I roasted chestnuts. From left: uncooked, cooked, opened and half eaten. They weren't very good, actually. A little to sweet and spongy for me. |
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| I had a santa hat, and I wore it all day. This is my facebook profile now... |
Sunday, I was planning on going to St. Gabriel's for their Christmas Day service, to be in church when I couldn't be with family and friends, and to see what an anglican church is like. I'm curious, after learning quite a bit about their formation in Core 150 and English Social History 1500-1750. We don't really see many of those in the US; probably something about being the whole reason that the religious establishment in the states was what it was.
Unfortunately, I woke up ten minutes before the service was to start, due to my really annoying habit of turning my alarm off in my sleep. I ended up getting up around 11, again.
In the afternoon, happily after I was up and had made my bed and stuff, Jessi and her parents came by. Fortunately, they spoke enough english to make things not-awkward, and Jessi translated when their english failed them. My german never came into play, although I did pick up on some of what they said. They were pretty nice.
After they left, I got started on dinner, and it resulted in this rather suspicious-looking concoction.
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| Soup. More of a stew, actually. I slaved over this. |
It was delicious, and ended up feeding me for three days.
I skyped with my parents in the GMT afternoon and the rest of my dad's side of the family in the PST afternoon, which was nice. I've been talking to people back home more and more, and I'm getting pretty excited to get to the house in spokane, and to be back at whitworth, and to see my family in person. I haven't actually had a major W-curve depression moment, although I'm pretty disillusioned with the University in general. That sort of depressed mood hits me at whitworth, too, like when I get a particularly bad mark, or I'm having a hard time with an assignment, or a professor isn't being helpful. It happens a lot less at whitworth, and the professors are a lot less unhelpful than here, and I also have a great advisor at whitworth who has proved her worth by helping me get here and by not judging me for having a breakdown in her office over physics. I think she probably sees a lot of that from science major freshmen, you know, the ones who were pretty darn smart in high school, were at the tops of their classes without trying, who never had to study (oh, how I miss those days)...
Overall, Christmas was a success. It was helped more when my flatmate that moved away (causing the sad puppy whimpers from me) invited me to visit her at her boyfriend's house in Beford for a few days and maybe spend new years eve with them and another flatmate who's been traveling. I didn't start any big traditions (I was hoping for Chinese on Christmas Eve, like crepe tuesdays. In retrospect, I didn't have any family or friends around to make it a worthwhile tradition, so I just continued in the family habit of eating cheese and crackers for Christmas Eve), but I didn't have an emotional breakdown and I don't think my family did, either.
Oh, and I intend to call christmas lights "fairy lights" for the rest of my life. It just sounds so much cooler.
Tuesday, 25 October 2011
Birthdays and Thoughts on Growing Up — Friday 21 October to Monday 24 October
Friday was Conor's 20th birthday. We got him a card and cupcakes.
Saturday and Sunday were highly unproductive days for me. I looked for a card for Jessi's 21st birthday (which is/was Monday the 24th) on Saturday, but I started too late and everything was closed. I did burn my finger on the oven, but it's getting better.
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| Burnt. If anyone has any theories on why my burns tend to hurt a little right when I touch the hot thing, not hurt for twenty minutes, and then start burning again, please comment. |
Sunday, I found a card at The Bridges, and looked ineffectually for a cake. All the bakeries were closed. We were going to watch a football (soccer to you americans) game in a pub, but we didn't know that it started at 13:00, and so missed it by about seven hours. It was too bad, since it was Manchester City vs Manchester United, which is an ancient rivalry and involves one of the teams having been bought by some foreigner who brought in really good international players that aren't british. So they kick the other teams' butts, and not many british people like them. I think this is like the basketball players that tried to form something of a "dream team" to win whatever it is that NBA teams play for by pulling star players away from their usual teams and into a predetermined team. I opposed this in principle, although I hate basketball. Hate watching it, hate playing it, hate hearing about it. Aaaanyway.
Wall! Much better than basketball.
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| Walls make me ridiculously happy. I love how they're in varying states of repair, like old burnt bricks and new bricks in the same section. |
After I found the cake, I ended up wandering around the bridges for a while before sitting down to ribena, biochemistry, and what turned out to be a belgian waffle at Esquires Coffee in the bridges.
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| Mmmm, waffle. Mmmmm... Mmmm. |
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| From Hyperbole and a Half. |
The first bite was confusing, because I was expecting light, pancake-like kind of crunchy waffle, and I got heavy, sweet waffle.
Speaking of breakfast foods, I've discovered flapjacks. We don't really have anything that similar except some softer granola bars. I was expecting pancakes, but they're fairly firm oat bars, with fairly uncooked oats, that are fairly soft. They are not fairly delicious, they are exceedingly delicious. I get Blackfriars ("wickedly good") flapjacks for 49p at Aldi and take them for lunch and snack on Thursdays.
After the bridges, I took the long way to the bus stop (and just made it, by sheer luck)
I'm thinking that "Minster" is sort of like "First (denomination)" because we visited the York Minster in York.
While walking and taking cool pictures and looking at houses, I started noticing that I've been really wanting a house.
I noticed this about my school housing situation (having two "homes", neither particularly permanent, for four years). My room at home is going to be not mine, probably within three years. My rooms at school are only mine for nine months. Unfortunately, I've developed an intense desire to have my own little house with a little kitchen and a little garden. I find myself lusting over kitchen supplies (utensils, teapots, pots and pans, etc.), garden decor (big, permanent plants, fancy planters, little statue things), and house decor (pillows, rugs, chairs, couches, wall hangings of various sorts, paintings (at least, the kind of thing that goes in a frame with glass that can be hung on a nail that you're allowed to put in the wall because it's your own frigging wall), lamps, curtains, and the like). The problem is intensified by the fact that I'm not staying in Spokane, which is the most immediate location for more permanent lodging. It gets worse because I now want a little townhouse in Sunderland.
I know.
I'm not staying here, and I'm probably not coming back for any long period of time, ever. But I find myself thinking, as I walk down skinny streets with terrifying drivers lined by iffy sidewalks and tiny houses, that I really wish I could live here. I've started thinking that I have an accent, not the other way around, and I'm practically used to the "wrong side of the street" thing. I actually had a hard time picturing getting in on the right side of a coach on the way to Durham. Seeing houses that are separated from any other house seems a bit frivolous. Instead of wanting a big yard, I don't really want one at all.
I know.
It really doesn't make sense. But these little places are perfect student/busy person housing. No yard to speak of that needs attention, and small enough that it will be hard to fill it with so much junk that you can't keep if you have to move back in with your parents. They'll probably drive me crazy when I hit the bottom of my w-curve, but for the time being, I think they're the best thing ever.
The thing, I guess, is that I want it to be mine. I'm really not looking to settle down in the "have a family" sense, since I'm neither in nor likely to be in a long term relationship in the near future, but I am looking to put down serious roots of my own. Right now, to extend the plant metaphor, I'm like a cutting. I've been part of a healthy, solid family with some healthy, solid roots. They've nourished me and provided me with everything I need to be a healthy person, but it's time for me to put down my own roots. Okay, so I'm more like the slightly parasitic offspring on some succulents than a cutting, but the basic principle is the same. I've grown past being able to be healthy while still attached to my parents' house; it's about time that I got my own.
I think I'm going to have to settle for a few awkward years of not having my own place, though, since I think I'll be much happier if I keep up my transient status until I find wherever it is that I'm supposed to stay. I'm reasonably certain that it's not sunderland, and I'm almost sure that it's not spokane, either.
Sigh. First world problems, I guess.
One thing that's struck me about england is the odd atmosphere of beauty and decay. There are beautiful things, ornate pathways, gorgeous buildings, and they're almost all slightly run down. I find it oddly appealing and grotesque at the same time.
Also, Josie got back from London tonight, which was pretty exciting. Jessi's cake, the one from Tesco that cost £3.87, turned out to be really delicious. Chocolate with chocolate frosting and chocolate curls on top. I was in shock. And she thought the cheap candle ("21" with "Twenty-One" written below) was incredibly awesome. I win.
Conor set the flat low score in hearts at 7, complementing his flat high score of 120 (most times, the loser gets 103-111). Adam worked his usual magic of not really being noticed.
My blogger page was being weird and refusing to update, so sorry if you looked for a post under my advice and couldn't find it.
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| The pictures in the bottom window things were the target of the photo. |
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| Seriously cool old building atmosphere. I guess this is sort of like downtown kennewick without the sketchy parts. |
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| Sunderland Minster from the gate. |
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| Minster from the side. I'll need to check sometime on when it was built, because it's got some of that fortressy thing going on. |
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| Wall! This is attached to the Minster. |
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| These are across from the Minster. They're old buildings with nightclubs in them. |
While walking and taking cool pictures and looking at houses, I started noticing that I've been really wanting a house.
I noticed this about my school housing situation (having two "homes", neither particularly permanent, for four years). My room at home is going to be not mine, probably within three years. My rooms at school are only mine for nine months. Unfortunately, I've developed an intense desire to have my own little house with a little kitchen and a little garden. I find myself lusting over kitchen supplies (utensils, teapots, pots and pans, etc.), garden decor (big, permanent plants, fancy planters, little statue things), and house decor (pillows, rugs, chairs, couches, wall hangings of various sorts, paintings (at least, the kind of thing that goes in a frame with glass that can be hung on a nail that you're allowed to put in the wall because it's your own frigging wall), lamps, curtains, and the like). The problem is intensified by the fact that I'm not staying in Spokane, which is the most immediate location for more permanent lodging. It gets worse because I now want a little townhouse in Sunderland.
I know.
I'm not staying here, and I'm probably not coming back for any long period of time, ever. But I find myself thinking, as I walk down skinny streets with terrifying drivers lined by iffy sidewalks and tiny houses, that I really wish I could live here. I've started thinking that I have an accent, not the other way around, and I'm practically used to the "wrong side of the street" thing. I actually had a hard time picturing getting in on the right side of a coach on the way to Durham. Seeing houses that are separated from any other house seems a bit frivolous. Instead of wanting a big yard, I don't really want one at all.
I know.
It really doesn't make sense. But these little places are perfect student/busy person housing. No yard to speak of that needs attention, and small enough that it will be hard to fill it with so much junk that you can't keep if you have to move back in with your parents. They'll probably drive me crazy when I hit the bottom of my w-curve, but for the time being, I think they're the best thing ever.
The thing, I guess, is that I want it to be mine. I'm really not looking to settle down in the "have a family" sense, since I'm neither in nor likely to be in a long term relationship in the near future, but I am looking to put down serious roots of my own. Right now, to extend the plant metaphor, I'm like a cutting. I've been part of a healthy, solid family with some healthy, solid roots. They've nourished me and provided me with everything I need to be a healthy person, but it's time for me to put down my own roots. Okay, so I'm more like the slightly parasitic offspring on some succulents than a cutting, but the basic principle is the same. I've grown past being able to be healthy while still attached to my parents' house; it's about time that I got my own.
I think I'm going to have to settle for a few awkward years of not having my own place, though, since I think I'll be much happier if I keep up my transient status until I find wherever it is that I'm supposed to stay. I'm reasonably certain that it's not sunderland, and I'm almost sure that it's not spokane, either.
Sigh. First world problems, I guess.
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| I do love the garden areas. |
One thing that's struck me about england is the odd atmosphere of beauty and decay. There are beautiful things, ornate pathways, gorgeous buildings, and they're almost all slightly run down. I find it oddly appealing and grotesque at the same time.
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| Such a pretty pattern, but it's so beaten up. |
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| I think this one is unoccupied, so there's some excuse, but the juxtaposition of ornate mosaic and unkempt courtyard are striking. Lots of houses have this sort of thing going on. |
Conor set the flat low score in hearts at 7, complementing his flat high score of 120 (most times, the loser gets 103-111). Adam worked his usual magic of not really being noticed.
My blogger page was being weird and refusing to update, so sorry if you looked for a post under my advice and couldn't find it.
Tuesday, 23 August 2011
The Visa Story (and also a house story)
Hi, all. The last post was a while ago, so here are some updates:
1. I leave in a mere 24.5 days.
2. I am not getting a visa.
3. Holy crap, I leave in less than a month.
About the visa. I had acquired a CAS number (confirmation of acceptance of studies) as required by the points-based system for UK visas when I finally found the fee page. It costs £255 for a student visa (general sponsored adult), and that works out to over $400 with the current (crappy) exchange rate. If I was staying for the full year, this would be worth it. As it stands, however, I probably wouldn't be able to make enough money to cover the cost of the visa. So, no visa. I'll try to be more frugal than I tend to be when presented with stores.
Also, I leave in less than a month.
My housing situation has improved, apparently. I will be living in a house off campus, probably in the room that the person who hooked me up with the house will vacate in December. In a fit of irony, she's the only one living there that I know beyond casual, visual acquaintance.
The house is awesome. It's got columns and a basement (already dubbed "The Cohab Cave") and a million bedrooms and a fireplace and a freaking conservatory. Also a washer, dryer, dishwasher, and refrigerator. I'll be on the ground floor, by myself and the kitchen. There's also a patio, two bathrooms, and two living room areas (the entry and the, what, parlour?). It's maybe a mile from campus, and at least one of my future housemates has a car. With some boldness on my part, I should be able to get a ride in on particularly awful mornings. On halfway decent mornings, I should be able to walk in easily enough. Hopefully, I don't have any 8 AM classes.
In other news, I leave in less than a month.
I've stopped having dreams about being unsure of my placement by ISEP (those involved a rainboot store where I never managed to try on any boots) and moved on to dreams about missing my flight (one involving hijacking another plane to catch up at Reykjavik and another about leaving the Tri Cities about half an hour before my flight leaves Seattle). Happily, my subconscious is free of fears about real, terroristic hijackers, so there's one less massive anxiety focus... With the riots in London I've spent a bit of time worrying about not being able to go for safety reasons and having to take random filler classes at Whitworth and not having a place to stay... In fact, I had planned to take random filler classes this semester anyway (just in England instead of the US), and I think there is an extra room at the house.
Wellp, see ya later.
1. I leave in a mere 24.5 days.
2. I am not getting a visa.
3. Holy crap, I leave in less than a month.
About the visa. I had acquired a CAS number (confirmation of acceptance of studies) as required by the points-based system for UK visas when I finally found the fee page. It costs £255 for a student visa (general sponsored adult), and that works out to over $400 with the current (crappy) exchange rate. If I was staying for the full year, this would be worth it. As it stands, however, I probably wouldn't be able to make enough money to cover the cost of the visa. So, no visa. I'll try to be more frugal than I tend to be when presented with stores.
Also, I leave in less than a month.
My housing situation has improved, apparently. I will be living in a house off campus, probably in the room that the person who hooked me up with the house will vacate in December. In a fit of irony, she's the only one living there that I know beyond casual, visual acquaintance.
The house is awesome. It's got columns and a basement (already dubbed "The Cohab Cave") and a million bedrooms and a fireplace and a freaking conservatory. Also a washer, dryer, dishwasher, and refrigerator. I'll be on the ground floor, by myself and the kitchen. There's also a patio, two bathrooms, and two living room areas (the entry and the, what, parlour?). It's maybe a mile from campus, and at least one of my future housemates has a car. With some boldness on my part, I should be able to get a ride in on particularly awful mornings. On halfway decent mornings, I should be able to walk in easily enough. Hopefully, I don't have any 8 AM classes.
In other news, I leave in less than a month.
I've stopped having dreams about being unsure of my placement by ISEP (those involved a rainboot store where I never managed to try on any boots) and moved on to dreams about missing my flight (one involving hijacking another plane to catch up at Reykjavik and another about leaving the Tri Cities about half an hour before my flight leaves Seattle). Happily, my subconscious is free of fears about real, terroristic hijackers, so there's one less massive anxiety focus... With the riots in London I've spent a bit of time worrying about not being able to go for safety reasons and having to take random filler classes at Whitworth and not having a place to stay... In fact, I had planned to take random filler classes this semester anyway (just in England instead of the US), and I think there is an extra room at the house.
Wellp, see ya later.
Wednesday, 25 May 2011
For Your Information
This blog is now a part of the Google Network of Creepiness, and you are now being monitored by our Google Overlords.
I signed up for Adsense, which might let me make money passively. Hopefully it works.
Please don't click all the ads that you see because you like me and want me to make money, because that is some kind of fraud that would cause me to lose money and possibly go to jail instead of England.
Of course, please click anything that looks cool to you. I'm fairly certain that Google ads are not malicious viruses waiting to eat the cruddy old PCs that most of you are probably using or even the nice new PCs that a few of you might be using (and especially probably not the delightful Macs that a very, very few of you might be using).
Next post will probably be something cool about visa application to the UK, or maybe the conclusion of the in-the-States portion of my housing tale.
Happy Wednesday! (unlikely)
I signed up for Adsense, which might let me make money passively. Hopefully it works.
Please don't click all the ads that you see because you like me and want me to make money, because that is some kind of fraud that would cause me to lose money and possibly go to jail instead of England.
Of course, please click anything that looks cool to you. I'm fairly certain that Google ads are not malicious viruses waiting to eat the cruddy old PCs that most of you are probably using or even the nice new PCs that a few of you might be using (and especially probably not the delightful Macs that a very, very few of you might be using).
Next post will probably be something cool about visa application to the UK, or maybe the conclusion of the in-the-States portion of my housing tale.
Happy Wednesday! (unlikely)
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